“I want to be a cowboy, but only long enough to barge into a saloon and bellow, "Who's the yellowbelly that stole my happy trail?”

“I rode my horse to the saloon, but it was out of business. The cowboy I spoke with said the bartender served the saloon’s last drink on March 5th, 1882. Guess I shouldn’t have taken so long to shower and get ready. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“This isn’t my first Merry-go-round, Cowboy.”

“The only thing I have left to remember her by is the scent of her perfume. I just broke into her car and stole the bottle.”

“While I appear to be happy and giggling, rest assured that inside I am sad. And angry. Like that one time—Feb 14, 1997, at 1:47 pm to be exact—when John Beaverthief stole my girlfriend. He snatched her from the shelf of my life like she was a trophy wife. But she was no trophy; she was more of a maquette.”

“The basketball team was trailing by three points. I trail by four points—north, south, east, and west. I also trail by covered wagon.”

“Some people sleep their lives away. But I also want to sleep death away. If I sleep long enough, maybe death will think I’m already dead and pass me by.”